


Hooked on You

by BoStarsky



Series: Assorted Kylux [24]
Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Clyde is confused, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Stensland falls in love too easy, Weed, a little blood, dead fish as gifts, injuries, kylux adjacent, mermaid au, these boys are too sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoStarsky/pseuds/BoStarsky
Summary: He’d pushed off in the little boat tied to the pier, unknowing of what he’d find. Really he should have known better, should have chosen anywhere other than Louisiana to take his vacation. Now that he’s here he can’t do anything about it or the not-a-fish he managed to hook on his line. The nopefish he’d thought was an alligator at first glance causing him to panic and pull back on the line when he should have let go. The aquatic-what-the-fuck had writhed, twisted and pulled, tangled itself further into the line until blood clouded the water.





	Hooked on You

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this AU that was just begging to be written! Credit to SoloHux and the Anon with the idea, thank you for letting me run with this. Also thank you to Windshade, and Ponnerd my very own Princess Charming for betaing this pile of fluff.
> 
>  
> 
> CW for a wound description.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Go on a vacation, Lyle said, it’ll be fun. Do something new, Lyle said, it’ll do you good. Get out of Seattle, Lyle said, it’ll be an adventure. Stensland trusts Lyle, or he did, trusted his friend’s judgement and took his word for it.

****

There’s great fishing here, his airbnb host said and Stensland took her word for it as well.

****

Sure, he said, now look at this mess.

****

He’s regretting this now.

****

He’d pushed off in the little boat tied to the pier, unknowing of what he’d find. Really he should have known better, should have chosen anywhere other than Louisiana to take his vacation. Now that he’s here he can’t do anything about it or the not-a-fish he managed to hook on his line. The nopefish he’d thought was an alligator at first glance causing him to panic and pull back on the line when he should have let go. The aquatic-what-the-fuck had writhed, twisted and pulled, tangled itself further into the line until blood clouded the water.

****

It wasn’t until Stensland stopped yodelling in unwise panic that he noticed the black hair and pale skin of the definitely-not-a-fish wrapped in his fishing line. At the risk of death he pulls a little on the line getting an immediate reaction from the definitely-not-an-alligator-either in the form of a human head turning to look at him, dark eyes brimming with fear while he’s being reeled in like the catch of the day.

****

The mottled brown and green tail bumps into the side of his boat first, thick and muscular, probably strong enough to kill him with a good whack. Against all reason Stansland reaches out to touch one of the fins poking out of the murky water. The reaction is instant, the maybe-a-mermaid rocking into the side of Stensland’s little boat hard enough that water sloshes over the side turning the floor dangerously slick.

****

“Shit! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Those dark eyes glare at him through a curtain of wet hair. Stensland takes a moment to look while catching his breath, to take in and try to process the thing floating in the water next to his boat. It’s long, longer than he is tall, much wider than him too, huge would be the word for it. Huge and terrifying.

****

Stensland stares, caught up in the impossible thing tangled in his fishing line he’s is entirely unprepared for the webbed hand coming up to grip the edge of the boat. His initial reaction is to scream and beg for mercy, but the creature ( _merman?_ ) ignores him, hauling itself out of the water with a pained grunt. The boat rocks with the movement and Stensland clutches the bench he’s sat on staring wide-eyed at the fucking cryptid curled up across from him. The merman stares back, full lips curling into a snarl to show of sharp teeth. He’s going to get eaten alive. If he somehow survives this he’s never trusting Lyle’s opinion ever again.

****

The slick tail brushes up against his calf sending him sprawling backwards into the narrow space behind the little bench. He wonders if the merman is just as scared of him when he flinches back, a brief stab of pain showing on his strange face before glancing nervously out over the water. It seems they’re at a bit of a stand still.

****

The longer he stares the more things he notices, like the big ear sticking out of his wet hair, the bristly goatee, how his eyes are a deep, warm brown. What stands out the most, however, is the scarred stump where his left hand should be. He went out on the water thinking he might catch a fish and let it loose again and ended up with a handicapped merman that has the most beautiful eyes he’s seen since Morgan.

****

The merman twitches again and suddenly Stensland remembers the fishing line tangled around his tail, the unforgiving nylon digging into the skin, a few beads of blood oozing out in places. He’s hurt this beautiful creature, he’s at fault here and he has an obligation to fix it. Maybe the merman agrees and that’s why he climbed in the boat.

****

He thinks that for a few seconds before a low hiss breaks through the buzz of insects and frogs. It’s a sound that sends chills down his spine, a sound he’s never heard outside of the tv and hoped he never would. They both turn to look at the alligator lurking just under the surface, so that’s why he got in the boat. Several more appear while they watch, drawn by the blood in the water.

****

Back to shore, they have to get back to shore. It’s not far, he can see the lopsided pier from here. The puny, little motor starts without a hitch and he almost forgets about his passenger in the short trip back to safety. All he cares to remember is getting as far away from the bloody alligators as he can.

****

He doesn’t feel quite safe enough until his feet are on solid ground and he can survey this absurd situation from a distance. Guilt laps at him when he stares at the injured merman in the boat, he did that, he hurt him. He’s too sober to deal with this.

****

What do you even do in a situation like this? It’s not like he can just call someone, who would he call anyway, animal control, a vet, a doctor?

****

The alligators are still lurking in the distance, patiently waiting for a hearty meal and it’s his fault that they’re there. It’s his responsibility now to make sure the merman is safe.

****

“Hi, I’m Stensland,” he starts out meekly, inching his way back down to the boat, “I’m sorry about the fishing line,” dark eyes glare at him with an underlying current of fear, peeking up over the edge of the boat he looks like a trapped cat. “If you’ll let me I can cut it off,” it comes out sounding more like a question when his voice breaks at the end.

****

For the longest three minutes of his life the merman just stares, looking deep into his soul before uttering one single word in a voice like smooth whiskey, “okay,”

****

Somehow Stensland was even less prepared for that than he thought, a lot less. Sprinting into his cabin, he skids to a stop on the tiled floor of the kitchen taking a moment to just breathe. Trying to process and rationalise this is futile, but he can’t keep himself from giving it a go, he’s hallucinated stranger things than this. If he’d smoked something stronger this morning then he wouldn’t be all that surprised if he found a log or a regular fish waiting for him.

****

That’s not the case, the merman is still there when Stensland ambles back over with a pair of scissors, the first aid kit and a semi coherent plan he doubts will be followed. A glance over the water shows the knobbly heads of the waiting gators, their presence makes him nervous, knees trembling when he clambers back down into the boat.

****

“They’ll be a while,” the merman mutters in what sounds like a deep, southern drawl. It suits him, that voice, it matches well with the brick house build of the man.

****

“Is this okay?” Stensland holds up the scissors he found for approval, forcing himself to look away from the big lizards interested in eating them both.

****

When the merman doesn’t say anything he assumes it to be okay, choosing to start untangling from the top where the line has cut into the sheer membrane of one of the fins near his hip. Slipping the scissors under the line gets him a pained hiss when it tightens against the injured fin, he’s caught in an endless stream of apologies before he’s even made the first cut.

****

It isn’t before he’s reached the third coil near the merman’s knees, ( _does he have knees?_ ) that he thinks to ask for a name, if he even has one. His mam taught him to be polite if nothing else. Though, he does fail the polite check more often than not.

****

Clyde, his name is Clyde. Clyde the merman who lives in the bayou. It suits him the same way his voice does and Stensland is sure he’s going insane.

****

The hook itself is all that’s left, the pole and cut line thrown aside on the pier, it’s dug in deep whereabouts Clyde’s ankles would be, right above the enormous, mottled fluke. Everything had been going fine up until this point, the damage to Clyde’s tail being mostly cuts and scrapes, but the hook has torn his flesh, blood still oozing sluggishly from the aggravated wound.

****

A sizeable chunk has been ripped loose and Clyde groans in pain when Stensland carefully wriggles it. It’s pretty stuck in there and really it’s Clyde’s own fault for struggling so much, but Stensland can’t really blame him for that. He probably would have done the same.

****

Why didn’t he just stay home?

****

“Rip it,” there's a hitch in that deep voice now, buried under the determination, “Just rip the dang hook out.” Turning away with a set jaw Clyde looks out at the gators, waiting for Stensland to hurt him even more.

****

“No.” He won’t, he’s already caused enough damage as it is.

****

Clyde looks at him then, a deep stare that reaches into his very soul and makes him wonder if he’s about to get attacked. For a long time all he can hear is the nature around them, the lap of water against the shore, bird song, hissing gators, then something in Clyde’s look changes. Disbelief makes its home on that strange face as he looks between his missing hand and Stensland’s teary face and something clicks in his mind. That hand wasn’t eaten by any gator, the scars are too neat for that.

****

“I’ve hurt you enough already,” removing a fishhook can’t be too hard, right? He can learn how on youtube, there has to be a way to get it out without causing more damage.

****

Digging his phone out of his pocket he sets to looking up how to remove it. Immediately results pour in and it doesn’t take long to find out what he needs. A pair of tongs he absolutely doesn’t have. Searching the entire cabin reveals no such thing and he’s not dumb enough to call his host since he can’t think of a believable reason for needing it. If he wants those tongs he’ll have to go get them.

****

A glance out the window shows Clyde still in the boat, waiting patiently for him to come back. Shit. He can’t leave Clyde out in the boat like that, anyone can just come by and see him there, that’s not an option. Where the fuck is he supposed to hide a massive merman? Leave him on the couch? No, he can’t do that, Clyde probably needs to be in the water. If only he had a tub.

****

_Wait._

****

He does, an old washtub out on the porch that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be for decoration, if not keeping fresh fish. It’ll have to do. It’s not big, but it fits through the backdoor, taking up half the floorspace in the modest kitchen. A quick test shows Stens can fit in it so Clyde will too, barely. Now, how to get the merman from the boat and into the tub.

****

Stensand has never been particularly strong, never before has he been so keenly away of that as he is now. It took a fair bit of coaxing and promises before he got Clyde to agree with his plan, then it left the matter of _how_.

****

He ended up getting a big blanket from the bedroom and laying it out for Clyde to crawl onto so he can drag him up to the cabin without causing even more damage to that beautiful tail. Sweat breaks out on his forehead before they’ve gotten six feet along the way. With a good amount of heaving and hauling they get there at long last, their short journey feeling like a cross country trip.

****

In this tiny kitchen Clyde looks even bigger, the whole of him reaching the entire length of the room. He might have overestimated the size of the tub. Clyde seems to agree if that raised brow is anything to go by. “It’s all I had,” Stensland defends himself.

****

Thoroughly unimpressed, Clyde hauls himself into the little tub. It’s like trying to fit a bull into a soup bowl. The end result is ridiculously cute, he keeps that thought to himself while pouring in as much water as will fit alongside Clyde’s bulk, soaking a couple of towels to spread over his tail for good measure.

****

“Can I get you anything?” What would he even offer? A quick look in the fridge reveals mountain dew, some juice, and not much more since the majority of his food is in the freezer. Stopping by the grocery store might be a good idea. He pours a tall glass of soda anyway, figuring Clyde can just leave it if he doesn’t want it.

****

Clyde regards the glass with the same kind of caution he’d given Stensland, so he takes a sip of it to show it’s safe before handing it over. Giving the glass and it’s contents a through onceover Clyde eventually deems it safe enough to try, taking a sip, making a face of borderline disgust, then downing half the glass in one go anyway. Stens can’t help the smile that takes over his face, how cute.

****

Leaving the merman alone in his kitchen brings with it a sense of worry, he should make this excursion as fast as he can, eager to get that hook out of Clyde’s tail as soon as possible. Driving has never been his strong suit, he’s always much preferred public transport or just walking for that matter, out here he doesn’t have much of a choice. His neighbours are few and far between, the quaint town a few miles away.

****

Twenty minutes of trees, trees, and more trees and he’s finally browsing through the fish and tackle store for those tongs. They are thankfully easy to find affording him the opportunity to get back to Clyde even faster. A quick detour through the convenience store and he’s on his way back, ready to rescue his little mermaid from himself.

****

A breath of relief rushes out of him when he finds Clyde exactly where he left him, that same soft pout on his face. He can’t have been gone much more than an hour, yet it’s been long enough that Clyde has somehow scooted his tub over to the fridge and helped himself to the rest of the mountain dew. Stensland fears he may have created an addiction.

****

Following a video on youtube the hook comes out with little damage, but it still leaves him with a sizable wound in Clyde’s tail. A first aid kit is something he does have, though he made sure to get some extras of that too while in town. The wound left by the hook should probably get stitches, blood still seeping sluggishly from the torn flesh. That's where he focuses his efforts first, cleaning it under careful supervision from Clyde himself. He can’t blame the merman for not trusting him.

****

The other cuts and scrapes aren’t as bad, but he cleans them all, going over every little nick he can with the disinfectant. Band aids are ineffective he realises pretty quick, Clyde presumably lives in the bayou and spends the majority of his time below water, a flimsy band aid wouldn’t last ten minutes. He sticks a few colourful ones on there anyway.

****

Clyde watches all this in silence, mistrust giving away to curiosity when it becomes apparent Stensland doesn’t mean him any harm. The wound from the hook requires a little more than just a band aid, wrapping it tightly with gauze is the best he can come up with and he’s loath to think Clyde will be leaving after this, going back into the water with the lurking gators.

****

What if the gauze comes loose, if he starts bleeding again, he’ll be killed and it’ll be Stensland’s fault. An image flashes before him, those gators coming after Clyde and tearing him to pieces all because of his own stupidity, he can’t let that happen. He decides then and there that the merman will just have to stay with him until the wound closes up enough, just a couple of days, that's all.

****

Clyde is going to hate him for this.

****

“No.” As soon as the suggestion had left Stensland’s mouth Clyde shot him down, cold as a block of ice. He knew this would happen, he was prepared for a rejection, what he wasn’t prepared for is the dark look that settles over the merman’s face. A look that would suggest Stensland offered to eat his children as opposed to asking him to stay for a few days.

****

Stensland doesn’t even have the chance to state his reasoning before Clyde is pulling himself out of the tub and crawling towards the door. What Stensand does next is both desperate and stupid. With no plan to back him up he dives after the merman’s tail, grabbing hold just above the fluke in a weak attempt to keep Clyde from leaving which only results in Clyde bucking him off with enough force to nearly send him flying.

****

The tile floor is unforgiving where it collides with his tailbone, but he’s not ready to give up just yet, “They’ll eat you,” might not be the best thing to screech as he makes a second attempt at tackling that thick tail, only to have Clyde beat him to it when that big fluke comes up to meet him.

****

The world goes black.

****

When he opens his eyes again he’s treated to a pair of dark eyes regarding him from above, something akin to concern lurking there. It doesn’t take long for the dual aches in his jaw and the back of his head to make themselves known, throbbing hotly under the skin. A long, drawn out groan is about the best he can do when Clyde pokes at him, jabbing those clawed fingers into his cheek.

****

Wait.

****

Clyde is still here. The merman must have stayed behind to make sure he was alive instead of just leaving him here like any rational person fearing captivity would.

****

“How bad is it?” The words come out muddles together, sounding as if he’s trying to talk after a visit to the dentist. His tongue is a little swollen, he notes, the taste of copper on his teeth. He must have bitten himself.

****

That cold, clammy hand cups his chin, tipping his head this way and that, “You’ll live,” is the verdict after a through examination that involved those sharp fingers prying his mouth open to look inside, replacing the taste of blood with murky water. Smacking his lips a few times Stensland comes to the conclusion that it could have been worse.

****

“Why did you stay?” He’d like to know the reasoning behind it.

****

Clyde doesn’t answer, instead he starts the process of turning around in the confined space, no doubt planning to make another break for it. That big tail flops over him at some point, a solid weight that could easily keep him pinned should Clyde want that. He doesn’t, the next lurch finally putting him in line with the back door, freedom, and certain death by alligator.

****

“Wait!” Against all expectation Clyde turns to look over his shoulder, leveling him with an impatient glare. “What if you start bleeding again? They’ll come back,” his pronunciation isn't much improved since he woke up, but Clyde appears to understand what he’s trying to get across, glancing between him and the door.

****

Realising he can’t keep Clyde here against his will, Stensland clambers up off the floor using the counter as an aid. Stepping carefully over the merman and opening the door for him. If Clyde really wants to leave there’s nothing he can do to stop him as evidenced by his growing headache.

****

The backyard looks remarkably unchanged, it can’t have been much more than a few hours since he caught Clyde on his hook, yet it feels like so much more. Must be the life changing aspect of it, his entire worldview having changed drastically now that he knows merpeople exist. Does Clyde have someone waiting perhaps? A beautiful mermaid worried about him somewhere out there in the bayou and Stens is keeping them apart.

****

It’s near impossible to miss the knobbly backs of the gators still waiting patiently for a meal now that he knows what to look for. Anxiety claws at his gut at the thought that Clyde will be going back out there. He has no doubts the merman can protect himself with those claws and teeth, but it would be three against one, a death sentence.

****

Several minutes have passed when it registers that Clyde is still right next to him, glowering out over the water. Why isn’t he leaving?

****

Eventually he lets out a defeated huff, scooting himself backwards in the direction of the tub. He doesn’t get far, dry skin offering up resistance on the tiles. Stensland is too confused to notice.

****

He’s staying? But what about his family, or friends, partner?

****

“I’ll stay until it’s safe,” it’s a compromise, Stensland can live with that.

****

Together they manage to lug Clyde back into the little tub, sloshing water all over the floor. They’ll have to find a more practical solution to this if those gators are persistent. “Thank you for staying.” The towels are back in place, soaked and dripping more water onto the floor, but he’d rather that than Clyde getting dehydrated.

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****

Slumping into one of the chairs shoved under the tiny kitchen table, Stensland takes a moment to try and process what’s happening. He came here to relax and unwind, now there’s a grumpy merman in his kitchen and a host of predators lurking outside his backdoor looking to eat said merman. How does shit like this even happen and why does it always happen to him?

****

His bong is just where he left it, sat on the bedside table like an abstract decoration, it’s just what he needs. Clyde watches him carefully when he slumps back into the dining chair and lights up. “Don’t you judge me,” there really isn't a need to be so defensive, but he feels it’s justified all the same, if it hadn’t been for the merman in his kitchen he wouldn’t need something to dull the pain.

****

“I've seen those things before, what are they?” How can someone not know what weed is? Then again, he supposes it would be difficult to be a pothead when you live underwater.

****

“It’s a bong, you use to to smoke weed,” he explains before taking another lungful of sweet smoke, feeling the calm begin to set in. “You want a hit?” Sharing isn’t at the forefront of his mind, but it would be rude not to offer.

****

“What’s it do?” Just like with the soda Clyde regards him carefully.

****

“Make you feel good.” The legs of the chair scrape loudly when he scoots closer to the tub, holding out the bong for inspection. “Here, I’ll show you how,” he demonstrates how to use it by taking another drag before handing it over to the curious mer.

****

For a little while he watches Clyde study the bong, turning it this way and that, watching the water slosh from side to side in the bowl, sniffing it carefully. When it’s deemed safe he lets Stensland light it up for him. He chokes on the first drag, hacking and coughing, immediately deeming the bong a device of evil and shoving it back at him, glaring with a look on his face akin to a wronged puppy when Stensland laughs.

****

This day has just taken a turn from the absurd to the truly unbelievable.

****

The gators are still lurking when the sun goes down, hiding amongst the reeds. Clyde will just have to spend the night, they can’t possibly wait much longer before moving on. It’s clear that Clyde is good prey that they’re willing to wait for, but he can wait longer.

****

Clyde isn’t happy about it, becoming more fidgety for each hour that passes and Stensland is running out of ideas to keep them occupied since the merman isn’t particularly talkative. Half the time Clyde has looked on the verge of leaving regardless of the lurking threat and Stensland can’t blame him for that, especially not if what he suspects about the missing hand is true. He’d be scared too were he in that position.

****

“Are you hungry?” He thinks to ask when his stomach gives off a demanding grumble, he’s starving. “What do you even eat?” Going by those teeth it isn’t plantlife and he’s not entirely sure he should be feeding a merman frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, or irish stew.

****

“Fish,” Clyde very helpfully supplies in that deep rumble.

****

Right. Dumb question really.

****

A dive into the freezer reveals a half empty box of fish fingers likely left by a previous guest as the only thing even close to Clyde’s regular diet. All he can do is hope the processed fish won’t kill the merman, which would be counterproductive to his meager efforts to build some sort of bond between them.

****

The gas stove seems to be an object of interest to Clyde, the mer sitting up and paying close attention to the blue flames dancing along the underside of the frying pan as Stensland tries not to burn the fish fingers too much. Cooking has never been a talent of his, especially not while cruising at a decent high. He manages well enough, the breading only a little crisper than it ought to be.

****

Clyde hesitates before taking the plate, balancing it on his tail and poking carefully at the fish fingers, running a claw through one to split it. Eventually he seems to be satisfied that it is indeed fish that he’s been served and not poison. Once deemed safe the food, much like the mountain dew, is consumed in record time. He himself has barely made it halfway through his sandwich before Clyde has polished his plate entirely and settled for staring at Stensland’s with those big, dark eyes.

****

“I’ve got more food if you’re still hungry?” There isn’t anything else sourced from the ocean, but a sandwich probably wouldn’t kill.

****

Clyde devouvers that too in record time, looking significantly more at ease now that he’s been fed, sloshing around in the little tub until his head is propped against the edge leaving his tail to take up most of the floor space. It doesn’t look very comfortable. Clyde must be used to sleeping on the muddy bottom of the bayou which would be a lot softer than a metal washtub.

****

“Do you need to be in the water?” If not, maybe he could sort something out. He’d more or less fit on the couch, or he could make some sort of pillow nest.

****

“No,” the suspicion is back, those eyes turning steely.

****

“Do you want somewhere else to sleep?” He’s treading carefully, glancing over at the couch, hoping Clyde takes the hint. His host might not be too happy if the furniture ends up smelling like fish, but he’s sure that could be avoided by putting down a few towels or the blanket he drug Clyde in on.

****

“I’m fine.” Lips pressed flat, Clyde stares at him from beneath his dried and tangled hair.

****

Stensland sighs, at least he offered. Still he gets Clyde a few pillows to soften the edge of the tub before leaving him there. Hopefully he’ll wake up and find this is all a pot induced dream. As amazing as it is having a grumpy merman is his kitchen he’d rather not have to reconsider his view on the world quite as much as discovering merpeople would require. For the sake of his own sanity.

****

He's woken in the wee hours of the morning by a considerable bang and big slosh of water that sounds exactly like a kiddy pool being overturned. It’s real. Clyde wasn’t a weird trip, he’s actually there in the kitchen, right where Stensland left him. And as if that isn’t enough his head is still throbbing from yesterday’s ringer. Dragging himself out of bed is more of a challenge than he expected, his eyes still blearly and crusted with sleep, his motor skills sluggish, body feeling fifty pounds heavier.

****

Stumbling into the kitchen he’s immediately more awake as cool water soaks through his socks. The old tub is turned on it’s side, pillows and towels strew around in the gigantic puddle left in its wake. Clyde is already half way through the door, pulling himself along with huffing breaths.

****

It’s way too early for this.

****

“Let me at least change your bandage before you leave,” Clyde freezes, he must not have heard him approach. The merman looks over his shoulder in a way reminiscent of the first time they locked eyes, that same fear clear to see. “I’m not going to fucking hurt you,” he can understand Clyde’s apprehension of humans, but right now he’s not in the mood to fight about it, not with the mess Clyde has left him to clean when all he wants is to go back to sleep.

****

A silent standoff later Clyde relents with a nod. _Thank god._

****

Gathering up the supplies from yesterday he carefully unwraps the soaked gauze around the bottom of Clyde’s tail, inspecting the wound that doesn’t seem as bad today as it had when he was panicking. Ideally it should have stitches, but he doesn't dare suggest it, sure that Clyde wouldn’t been keen on that and not trusting himself to do anything close to a decent job of it. He settles for just cleaning and re-wrapping it, making sure to tie the gauze tight enough to put a little pressure on it.

****

When he’s done he offers Clyde the banket again, not liking the idea of the merman dragging his injured tail across the rough lawn and down to the water. He’ll only hurt himself and dirty his wounds.

****

Clyde begrudgingly accepts, crawling onto the laid out blanket with an embarrassed frown and letting Stensland drag him down to the shore. He stops when they’re halfway there, checking the reeds from a distance, squinting through the weak morning light for any sign of the gators. They’re gone. He’s relieved, but also sad to see Clyde go, he has no other reason to make the merman stay a while longer.

****

It is with a sad smile he sees the merman off, watching him dive into the shallow waters and soon vanish in the murk. He’s not sure if he ought to thank Lyle for suggesting this trip or curse him out. Either way, it’s not like he can tell anyone about Clyde. People would either think him crazy or send out a hunting party for the merman which is the last thing he wants.

****

He’d figured that would be the last time he ever saw Clyde, but the next day he’s distracted away from Dawson’s Creek by a wet thwack. At first he doesn’t think much of it, probably the wildlife, the second time it’s accompanied by a muddy lump of grass splattering against the window. A glance out reveals the culprit.

****

Clyde is hiding in the reeds, digging another clump of dirt out of the ground and wetting it. He’s just about to send the improvised projectile flying when Stensland bursts through the backdoor and onto the deck. Just like the window there's another trail of mud on the wall next to it leading down to a little pile of dirt and grass.

****

Sputtering exasperatedly, he gestures back and forth between the mess and Clyde who looks thoroughly unphased by his arm waving. “Don’t do that, it’s not even my house!”

****

“Well, I couldn’t walk up and knock on the door,” at this Clyde looks a little sheepish, running his fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back to expose his entire face and smearing mud through it at the same time.

****

Stensland sighs, “What do you want?” Clyde is obviously here for a reason given his apprehension for humans it must be for something only he can provide.

****

“It’s come loose,” Clyde lifts his tail above the water so Stens can see the drooping gauze he tied around it yesterday. The fact that Clyde chose to come see him instead of just tearing it off sets off a little tingle in his stomach, the merman trusts Stensland not to hurt him. It’s not often anyone trusts him with anything at all.

****

Smiling, Stensland wades out into the mush at the shore so he can have a look at the wound. It looks much the same as it did before, scabbing over in places, but still clean and healthy as far as he can tell. He’s not exactly sure how fish heal when it comes to things like these, much less a merman so the best he can do is guess and it seems fine to him.

****

“Does it hurt?” he pokes gingerly around the edges looking for any discharge.

****

“No.”

****

“Well, I’m not sitting down in this,” he treads the muddy ground a little for emphasis, “So you need to come a little further up.” Going back up to Clyde’s front he offers his hands almost forgetting that Clyde only has one before correcting his offer.

****

There’s remarkably little hesitation from Clyde today as he grabs hold of his hand, letting Stensland make a valiant effort to pull him out of the water only to slip and fall on his ass. The impact is more unpleasant than painful, cold water seeping into his shorts and sending his nuts running for safety. Then before he can start complaining about it Clyde laughs, a deep, rumbling chuckle accompanied by a smile so charming Stens would gladly belly flop into the mud for a chance at seeing it again.

****

Oh no, Stensland thinks, _not again._ He’s even holding Clyde’s hand.

****

Now really isn’t the time to have an epiphany like this, it’s really not. Still, here he goes again, his weak heart taking him on another adventure that can only end in heartbreak. This isn’t a Disney movie and Clyde isn’t The Little Mermaid, there’s no magic to make this possible, not to mention Clyde wouldn’t want someone like him anyway. Why would he? He probably already has someone way better than Stensland.

****

He tries his hardest to shove it all to the back of his head for later when he can cry in the shower and be mad at himself for being such an idiot, clambering up from the mud and making another go at hauling Clyde further up only to end up hyper focused on his hand. It’s so big, his own looking tiny in comparison, the skin slick and pale, the thin membranes between his fingers, even the sharp points of his claws resting against the back of his hand. He wonders if Clyde finds him fascinating in any way, or if he’s just easy access to medical supplies, a means to an end.

****

It takes a couple of good tugs before Clyde is far enough out of the water to twist his tail onto dry ground and Stensland yet again questions his sanity at the sight of the muddy merman stretched out before him. But he’s definitely there, just as he was yesterday. If Clyde is a hallucination he’s a very insistent one.

****

Once he’s in the kitchen he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself, he can do this, he’ll just fix Clyde’s bandage and that’ll be all. The supplies are right where he left them on the counter and he brings out what he needs, stopping in the doorway for a moment to just look at the beautiful merman sprawled on the lawn, how he almost glitters in the sun, little drops of water reflecting the light. Heaving a sigh he wanders over and drops down next to Clyde’s tail with a muddy squelch.

****

He gives the same treatment he did before, cleaning the wound and wrapping the gauze tight around the slick skin, trying not to get caught up in all the new things he’s noticing in the light of day. Like all the little specks of colour, spots of black, brown, and green, even a little red all mingling to create the perfect camouflage in the murky waters. In a bold move he reaches out to touch the dorsal fin closest to him, feeling the thin membrane and the spines holding it up, watching how the sun bleeds through it, highlighting every hue.

****

In the grand scheme of things he supposes Clyde is a relatively boring looking merperson, he’s not particularly exotic, colourful, or elegant; he’s thick and muscular, drab and brown, but to Stensland he’s possibly the most beautiful thing in the world. An amazing impossibility come to life. He couldn’t care less about tropical fantasy mermaids when he has the real deal right here.

****

A twitch brings him back to the present, Clyde squirming a little in his hold, it’s first then Stensland notices he’s being watched. Looking up he’s met with those dark eyes. Clyde watching him with curiosity. “I...I’m sorry, shit, sorry,” he stammers out letting go of the fin and awkwardly wiping his hands on his t-shirt; he’s already covered in mud, what’s a little fish slime going to do?

****

Then something amazing happens. The air is almost knocked out of him as he’s sent sprawling, Clyde’s tail heavy across his stomach, twisted to the side to show a glimpse of the paler underside. Clyde looks expectantly at him, glancing between Stensland and his tail as if to say _‘go on’._

****

How can he refuse an invitation like that?

****

Careful to avoid any of the cuts the fishing line caused Stensland explores, carefully running his fingers over the soft skin, until he’s sure he can use his whole hand without upsetting Clyde. Firm muscle hides just beneath the surface, speaking of more strength than Stensland has been subjected to. It’s almost sweet that even when Clyde was scared of him he didn’t use more force than he had to.

****

The fins he finds most interesting, loving how soft and fragile they are in places. Clyde watches him carefully, eyes following his every move  as he strokes down the fluke to the sheer edge and back up to the base of his tail, tracing the spines carefully as far as they go. Working his way back up he goes to stroke along the underside of the tail, curious to see if it feels any different. He’s just barely put his palm to it before Clyde is pulling away. So that would be a no touching zone then. “Sorry,” he mutters, a little dazed at what’s happening.

****

“‘S fine,” Clyde pulls his tail back, freeing Stensland enough to sit up properly.

****

“Thank you for letting me...,” the words trail off, hanging in the air between them. Touching Clyde had been a bad idea, he knows that now, getting over this won’t be easy.

****

This time, when he sees Clyde off, he’s sure it’ll be the last, but a few hours later, as he’s smoking a bowl on the deck, a fish lands at his feet with a splat. Stensland screams, a sound worthy of a 90’s slasher film, and nearly drops his beloved bong. Clyde is staring at him from the reeds again, next to him are two more fish.

****

“What?” He’s well aware he sounds a little hysterical, heart still in his throat at the surprise projectile.

****

Clyde smiles, gentler this time, those sharp, crooked teeth kept safely behind plush lips. “Food,” he elaborates at long last and Stens looks down on the plump fish by his feet. Oh.

****

Food, right. From all of his previous experience with fish it’s always come ready to eat or frozen, a fresh one is lost on him. It’s clear Clyde expects him to do something, he has a suspicion that something is to eat it like it is, guts and all. Thinking about it, it makes perfect sense that Clyde wouldn’t be all that familiar with the human way of eating, because why would he be, it’s not like he has use for cooked fish.

****

“Clyde, I can’t eat this,” he sheepishly explains.

****

“Oh,” the crestfallen look that takes over Clyde’s face hits him somewhere painful and all he wants to do is make up for it. “Wrong fish?” He asks hopefully.

****

“No, I just can’t eat it raw, I’m sorry,” in fact he doesn’t even know what kind of fish it is, or how to gut it. What he can tell is that it’s a good fish, plump and fat. He’s not entirely sure what to make of this, why Clyde would bring him fish unless it’s supposed to be a thank you for helping him.

****

Steeling himself he bends down to grab the slimy fish, trying to convince himself this is no different than touching Clyde, but Clyde isn’t a dead fish, he’s not even _a_ fish really. He’s not even sure how to classify Clyde, how much is fish and how much is man? In the end it’s not like it matters, this has to be the last time he’ll ever see the merman, now there's no other reason for him to come back.

****

“Can you take the guts out?” with those out of the way he could probably manage the rest. Clyde perks up at the suggestion, waving him over and taking the fish off his hands when he’s close enough.

****

Sitting down in the dry grass Stensland watches Clyde use those intimidating claws of his to carve a somewhat straight line down the fish’s belly and proceed to start digging the guts out with little refinement. It’s unpleasant to watch. Thankfully it’s over quick and Clyde hands the fish back over minus it’s innards.

****

“Thank you,” he utters still feeling a little queasy and getting worse when Clyde starts eating the slimy pile of guts he’s been left with. He just barely manages to fight the urge to gag. He tries not to look too horrified and suspects he fails when Clyde takes one look at him and stops.

****

Smiling weakly Stensland wobbles to his feet muttering that he’ll be right back before escaping into the little house to dump the fish in the fridge and drink a glass of water. It takes a few minutes before he's ready to go back, but when he steps outside Clyde is gone, the other two fishes he’d brought stripped of their guts and left on the grass. He didn’t even say goodbye and it’s all Stensland’s fault for being so stupid when he should have just thanked Clyde for the fish and manned up while the merman ate. Clyde had come to share his food and Stens had been nothing, but rude in return.

****

Tears prickle at his eyes, spilling over despite his best efforts to keep them in. Why can’t he not fuck something up for once? If he’d just been a little more understanding he wouldn’t be sitting here crying next to dead fish.

****

“Why are you leakin’?”

****

“What?”

****

“Your face is leakin’, why?” Clyde is crawling up to him somewhat awkwardly, curiously reaching out to wipe at Stensland’s tears, defeating the purpose of the act when it leaves his entire face wet.

****

“It’s nothing,” he lies, returning Clyde’s gesture by carefully trying to wipe some of the water from his face. He’s surprised when Clyde lets him, even leans into the touch. “You came back,” Stens mutters while getting lost in those dark eyes that look permanently blown.

****

“I didn’t know what you’d like so I thought I’d try again.” Clyde pulls out a knife and Stensland almost scrambles away, but then Clyde speaks again, “You don’t have anything sharp.” Oh. “I thought you might need it,” how sweet, he doesn’t deserve this.

****

More tears well up to replace the ones wiped away, even when he was rude to Clyde he went off to get him another gift, to try again. He really doesn’t deserve this. “Thank you,” hugging Clyde seems like the best thing to do in this situation, so he does. Surges forwards and throws his arms around those massive shoulders.

****

For a minute Clyde freezes up, turning rock solid in his arms, melting only when Stensland shoves his face into his neck. Has Clyde ever been hugged, he wonders, do merpeople hug? Even if they don’t, he takes to it like a fish to water, wrapping one of his arms around Stens’ waist and letting him hold on for as long as he needs, despite the awkward position it’s put him in.

****

When Stensland eventually pulls back his entire shirt front is wet, hugging mermen is risky for your clothes apparently. He’s sure this outfit in particular is going to smell like fish and algae for all eternity. Not that it matters when he got to hug Clyde. Too many emotions are bubbling under his skin and he can’t keep himself from thinking about Morgan, pursuing Clyde wouldn’t be any smarter really. How would it even work? It’s not like he can have the merman sit in a tiny tub forever, Clyde needs to be in the water.

****

Maybe if he bought a houseboat?

****

No, he's getting ahead of himself again, Clyde is just trying to pay him back for helping him, he’s not interested in Stens like that. It wouldn’t make sense if he was. Humans are probably ugly to him, all gangly with too many limbs and no sharp bits for hunting and eating. Dumb animals. Stensland would be a useless mate to him.

****

“You sure you alright?” He really, really doesn’t deserve this.

****

“No,” Clyde just smiles at his admission and all Stensland wants to do is kiss him even though he knows it would be pointless. Not to mention incredibly stupid. What if Clyde bites him?

****

In the hopes of a distraction he picks up the knife. He’s pretty sure he saw one just like it in the bait shop in town, someone must have dropped it, or maybe Clyde took it off them. It looks brand new which would suggest it hasn’t been kept underwater. A great gift all things considered. Stensland smiles brightly, turning the blade over in his hands while Clyde watches, overwhelmed by the trust he’s shown by essentially giving him a weapon.

****

“I can finally eat that fish now,” and share it with Clyde.

****

Clyde perks up at this, “Could you make more of them sticks?” He asks eagerly.

****

“No, but I could buy you some.” Stensland suspects he's created a monster. He’ll have to introduce Clyde to various other ingenuities of human existence, like pizza and chips, strawberry milk, even candy, anything the merman could want.

****

Maybe even kissing.

****

What the hell, he decides, what has he got to lose? Clyde didn’t gut him for the hug so he’ll just have to be quick and hope those teeth won’t come into play.

****

Clyde makes a noise at their brief point of contact, “What was that for?” The tone of his voice is entirely innocent, that’s good, better than anger anyway.

****

“Because I like you?” He tries, ears turning hot under the scrutiny.

****

Never one to be predictable Clyde comes up to meet him in another brief kiss, “I like you too.”

****

Stensland is near ready to die in a fiery explosion of feelings as he pulls Clyde into a longer kiss, not even caring that he tastes like raw fish and mud. He couldn’t be happier in this moment. What a catch.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @BoStarsky or on Discord in various Kylux servers


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